Impossible
by like a falling star
Summary: Hermione Granger attempts the impossible. RHr.


Author's Note: I'm sorry about the prolonged no-updates, I really am. But my O' levels are just around the corner, at the start of November, and Prelims are a mere three weeks away. And I've really got to get around to studying, because I think I just screwed up my History Mock Exam. Besides that, I've been experiencing a bout of writer's block on and off, which I really hate. I haven't been writing for awhile, though I do get a few sentences in here and there. So… please bear with me. I'll be back in no time. :) 

Impossible

By like a falling star

Summary: Hermione Granger attempts the impossible. R/Hr.

Hermione Granger was by nature a very determined person. 

Determined being that when she really, truly wanted something and worked hard towards achieving said something, she usually got it. How else had she been able to score a hundred and two percent on her Charms exam? How else could she have done remarkably well in her Potions final, taking into account the fact that her Potions grade depended on a certain hook-nosed, perpetually scowling Potions master who soaked his hair in leftover oil from the Hogwarts kitchens each day did not, particularly, like her? How else could she have gotten Ron to look twice at her? Granted, she had used an alarming amount of Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, and those lovely blue robes had cost the earth, but it was quite an achievement, considering Ron hadn't even thought of her as a girl until a few days ago then. 

She had tried, of course. There was no saying that she hadn't. 

Operation XXX [so named to prevent _certain people_ from finding out its cause] had been going on for weeks upon weeks and still… nothing. No progress whatsoever. When she'd started it, she'd been hoping for a miraculous change, rampant one day and then *POOF* gone the next, but it seemed that it had been too much to ask. 

So then she settled on perhaps a gradual change; after all, she couldn't always expect things to happen overnight, could she? And Rome wasn't built in a day [though Hogwarts was]. But then _that_ didn't happen either. Try as she might, Operation XXX remained consistently unsuccessful, and it was altogether a worrying matter, because… 

She could _not_ stop falling in love with Ron. 

Why, why, _why_ did she have to go fall for her best friend, of all people? Of course, she'd heard that Cupid was blind; that probably accounted for the arrow piercing through the wrong hearts. Ron, on the other hand, was most definitely _not_ blind, and he also most definitely wasn't going to fall for someone with hair the colour of soil and teeth the size of marshmallows [though they _were_ considerably smaller now]. Though he was her best friend and would never, ever intentionally hurt her, she knew that love could not be forced and that there was no prevention from a broken heart. 

She'd tried, she really had. She'd stopped playing Wizard's Chess with him [seeing him win always made her heart burst with joy; it always made her proud to know that Ron could really be smart if he put his mind to it], she'd stopped studying in the Gryffindor Common Room and took to studying in the girls' dorms instead, where she knew Ron wouldn't be [it was a very unsuitable studying environment but one had to learn to make sacrifices for the greater good], she'd begun having meals with Ginny [which wasn't really much of a sacrifice] and she'd even attempted not to look at him so much.

Nothing worked; she'd decline a game of Wizard's Chess only to be lured by Ron into taking a walk around the Hogwarts grounds or sitting on the Quidditch stands talking for hours; she'd study in her room only to be distracted by Ron's voice, calling from the Common Room to ask her if she wanted a bit of his Chocolate Frog or the like; she'd have breakfast with Ginny, only to be joined by Ron and Harry, who was only too happy to be spending time locking eyes with Ron's sister; she'd tear her eyes away from Ron, but couldn't block out his voice, the joking tone that didn't hide the note of urgency when he'd asked her what was wrong and why she'd been avoiding them. 

She could only grit her teeth, offer an overly-cheery smile and pretend not to know what he was talking about. 

Damn she'd tried. But it was too late; there was no undoing what had been done. She was already head over heels for Ron, and there were no two ways about it. 

*

Hermione watched as Ron trudged into the Gryffindor Common Room, looking thoroughly disgruntled. He had just come in from Quidditch practice and which had been abruptly halted due to the thunderstorm that was now raging outside. A mixture of sweat and rain soaked through his Quidditch robes, making them cling to his slightly muscled, though lanky, frame, and Hermione had to tell herself to STOP LOOKING! as she suppressed a part-dreamy, part-annoyed sigh.

Darn that Cupid. 

*


End file.
